


Champions of the World

by BurningMartian



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 02:11:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14462757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningMartian/pseuds/BurningMartian
Summary: The greatest Heroes Thedas has known band together to usher in peace; however temporary; before the next threat arises.





	1. Chapter 1

4 months before Riannon Hawke's scheduled trip to Weisshaupt, the Viscount of Kirkwall paid one last visit to the Hanged Man in his beloved town. But for Varric, this was not just another opportunity to socialise with lowlifes. Today was about a story. A former member of the Templar order of Amaranthine had scheduled a meeting on Varric's request.

"So, Ser Viscount, what is it you wished to talk to me about on this day?"

Eams was not the kind of person Varric was used to mingling with at seedy bars. His book nose & vulture like face protruded ahead of black beady eyes that sparkled with a base intelligence.

" I wished to ask you about the Warden Commander assigned to your city during the thaw hunt after the Blight."

Varric noticed that Eams' hands moved in an erratic manner while he spoke. "Nervous tic?" The former Templar flashed a sour smile.

"Hardly. I find that associating events with a certain pattern of hand movements does wonders for my memory." He tapped the side of his skull.

"Err... right. So, about-"

"Felix Amell. Hero of Ferelden. Warden Commander of Amaranthine."

"I want to know the story."

"You already know the story. Everyone does. You want to know the man behind the tale. Because the tales tell us nothing of the person. Some would say your own tale of the Champion is proof of that, Ser."

Varric scowled behind his beer. The former Templar assumed a bemused expression."Why do you think I could tell you anything about him?"

"Because you retired immediately after a string of murders in Amaranthine ."

Eams looked even more amused than before. Then his hands moved in yet another erratic pattern.

"This was exactly 3 weeks after the conclusion of the Thaw hunt, which boiled into an attack on the city of Amaranthine. Lawlessness reigned for exactly 2 days before the guards regained their footing & cracked down on citizens & refugees. A man calling himself Yohan had been apprehended after being discovered at the scene of a brutal murder. I had just been sent to Amaranthine from Denerim to reinforce their Templars at the time. That was when I saw Felix Amell. The thing is, this was not my first encounter with him."

"I had seen him before at Kinloch. Exceptionally bright lad, by all accounts. Didn't speak much, though. Trying not to stand out too much, I assume. A wise strategy in the Circles."

"I approached to, well, not pay my respects, exactly. Just letting him know I was there, watching..."

Eams melted deep into his memories, his erratic hand movements summoning memories long past with crystal clarity.

"Felix Amell, son of Revka Amell of Kirkwall, Knight Enchanter of the Kinloch circle And now Warden commander of Ferelden. You've done well for yourself."

The mage turned to Eams and scrutinised his face before speaking. " Knight Captain Eams of the Denerim Chantry. You saw me on an inspection tour of Kinloch."

Eams smiled." Evidently your memory is equal to my own. Impressive."

Felix brought his hand upto eye level, and moved it in a pattern exactly similar to the one Eams had used to summon his memory of the mage, and said, "Not quite. I don't need these."

Eams flashed a sour smile at Varric. "You have to understand that this was quite an unnerving moment for me. Not half a day at Amaranthine and I had already been shown up."

Varric did not quite understand the sentiment but he allowed Eams to continue.

Eams had then asked to speak to Yohan, the murderer. He had confessed readily enough, apparently. Attempts were being made to discern his motives. To Eams they seemed clear enough. They were dealing with a madman who needed to be put down.

"My first mistake, Ser Varric, had been to assume. Now I ask you the same question Yohan asked me when I first saw him. Do you believe, right now, that in this bar, their might be monsters walking around us?"

"Monsters can be anywhere. That's what keeps the story interesting."

Eams leaned back and smiled. "A writers perspective." Then he tapped his hands in another fashion. "Yohan's victim was a Mrs Heinz, an elderly lady who should be of little significance. Ther were sixty stab wounds on the body. Several of them post mortem. I told him that if there was a monster in the vicinity, it was him. He told me I was lacking perspective."

Eams paused to sip at his beer. Varric soon grew impatient. "What then?"

"Then Yohan borrowed a pencil from me and scribbled out a note. And doing so, he stabbed himself through the ear."

An uncomfortable silence seemed to fill the bar usually so noisy. Eams handed a crumpled note to Varric. The monster inside me has grown so large!

Eams told Varric how he had found out that Felix was the last person to have seen Yohan before him. Eams had rushed to make sense of the situation. And it led him to the now battered fortress of Vigil's keep.

Eams summoned his memories down to precise detail about his conversation with Yohan, and showed Felix the letter. Felix said it was common enough for murderers to attribute their crimes to a second entity within them. He suggested looking through Heinz's home to see if I couldn't discern more at the scene of crime.

So Eams had not wasted a second getting to the home. And he had found out the old lady Heinz was actually mother to Carloss Heinz, boss of the criminal syndicate. There were letters throughout her dressers that indicated they had fallen out. What actually surprised Eams was the oil portrait of old lady Heinz with a clearly young Yohan at her side.

Eams went to Vigil's keep again the next day. He told Felix of his discovery, and the colour drained from the Warden's face. He agitatedly began tapping his fingers on the table.

"What has you so worked up, Lord Commander?"

"I did not tell you this before, but Yohan was an orphan, by his own account. And since Yohan was 37 years old, and the local Chantry only rebuilt 20 years ago, the older orphanages around here must have housed him. Ah well, Yohan is dead now, I would consider the case closed."

"I do not see it that way, Commander. This was clearly a case of murder for inheritance. The real son had fallen out with his mother. Yohan would get the family estate."

"Then why would Yohan kill her, then himself?"

Eams tutted impatiently. "Clearly it was Carloss who framed the murder on his adoptive brother. Yohan cracked under the strain and killed himself. The monster inside might refer to Carloss."

Then Eams frowned. "The rooms were ransacked quite thoroughly though... where would the will be?"

Felix was still drumming his fingers on the table. It was destroying Eams' concentration. "You could start with Rivendell orphanage to the east. It's the oldest one around. Probably the one that housed Yohan. If Mrs Heinz wished for Yohan to be able to find it, she would hide it near their. Carloss has probably inferred it already."

Varric interrupted the story. "Something's wrong here..."

Eams smiled and tapped the bottle of beer on the table. It had the label of Rivendell over it. "That place used to be an orphanage until it was consumed in fire half a century ago. A distillery since took it's place. I had been misled inspite of my perfect memory. Can you guess how?"

Varric slowly shook his head.

"In our 3 conversations, Felix had figured out the finger patterns I use to tap into my memory, and adapted to the code. He tapped a subliminal message on the table to plant an idea into my subconcious. He used my own trick to throw me astray. And he had technically not lied about the orphanage. He could attribute the mistake to an error of memory. I had nothing."

"But why?"

"Because Carloss never fell out with his mother. Because Yohan was no adopted son to Heinz. The painting and the letters had all been planted. The murder was to bait Carloss out of hiding. Apparently, the mother was a huge asset to their syndicate. I found Carloss with his throat slit, and the criminal syndicate collapsed overnight."

Varric could not suppress a shudder. "Why not go after him? If you knew."

Eams leaned back and sighed. "Because I was removed for my convenience, not his. Do you know what was different in the two murders I told you about?"

Varric said he didn't.

"Yohan kept stabbing Heinz well after her death. It was enjoyable to him. Felix slit Carloss' throat and left him to bleed out. He was nothing to him. An ant, to be trod on. Do you understand, Ser? If I were to get in his way, I would be the next ant."

Varric swallowed. "Why did Yohan kill himself?"

"Fear, Ser. Unimaginable fear that you and I cannot comprehend sitting comfortably here. There are monsters in this world Ser, so dig not too deep lest one find you."

Varric came home utterly shaken. Hawke was still in the process of packing to leave to see her famous cousin. Varric knew he would have to leave the seat of Viscount behind to protect her from this, whoever Felix Amell was. He packed Bianca. He would tell Hawke he was accompanying her tomorrow whether she liked it or not.


	2. Lord Inquisitor

One hand missing. Balance unreliable.

Glen Trevelyan lunged forward, sword in hand, skewering an imaginary opponent in the air.

Slow. Slower than he had ever been before. The weight of his body shifting precariously as his body struggled to balance it's weight with the loss of one limb.

The Mark had been painful. Life threatening. But before that, it had been convenient. A powerful weapon. The power to tear apart legions of any who would stand before him, turn them inside out.

Now he struggled to even wield a blade.

He placed the sword gingerly on the table, and took a sip from his carefully prepared draught of Lyrium.

The cravings had been getting worse. If this was how Cullen had felt, he truly could not begrudge him his instability. Not that he ever had.

He had thought he could keep a handle on the hunger. The foolish arrogance of a younger man.

He sighed.

He rarely ever saw Cassandra, busy as she remained, rebuilding her Seekers for the threats yet to come. A part of him knew it was selfish, that he had persuaded her to follow her path, but he wished she were here right now.

He was a broken weapon. His days of fighting for the greater good were past him. Or had they all been a spoilt noble brat's fantasy, as he reared a Holy Army around himself, trying to tell himself it was a righteous cause?

They had stopped an unspeakable evil, but what of what came after? Perhaps the nations were right to demand the dismantling of his Inquisition. Perhaps they truly were too destabilising a presence.

Or perhaps the Lyrium had already taken a greater toll than he predicted, and one of the first symptoms was crippling self doubt.

A messenger knocked on his door. "Enter."

"My Lord. Riannon Hawke had already moved for Weisshaupt when we took her your proposal."

Glen frowned, creases appearing between his brows. The remnants of the Orlesian Grey Wardens had been taken under the Inquisition's wing, and when the Inquisition disbanded, they preferred to stay behind instead of retreating to the Anderfels as they customarily do.

Weisshaupt had cut off connections from the outside world. What then, could the Champion of Kirkwall hope to gain by venturing their?

The Champion. A woman of magnetic personality and irresistible agency. She bore the scars the world had inflicted upon her with grace. He had always envied her that strength.

"Shall we send another message to Weisshaupt this time?" The man's voice snapped Glen out of his introspection.

He shook his head. He had been inactive too long.

"I will make this journey myself."


	3. Death arrives at Weisshaupt

"What've you got over in that coffin there, Lord Howe?"

"Felix Amell."

The carriage driver in charge of transporting Nathaniel Howe and his curious luggage to the Fortress at Weisshaupt visibly flinched.

"Isn't that..."

"The Hero of Ferelden, yes."

"He's.. he's dead then?"

"No. Merely asleep."

"Why does he sleep in such a fashion?"

"Maker's breath man, I don't know and you ask too many questions!" Howe lowered his voice. "Wouldn't want him to wake up at any rate. He wakes up cranky."

The coachman licked his rapidly drying lips and spurred the horses forward.

***

"You're sure about this?" Nathaniel had his reservations about smuggling Felix Amell, traitor to the Grey Wardens into the midst of their most secure fort disguised as a corpse.

"Hah! No. I merely wish to see how much the idea of my possible demise tempts those codgers in their fortress to climb down for a look." His Commander- former Commander he supposed- replied.

"So this is nothing more than you stroking your ego?"

"As of right now, Nathaniel, that is all I am willing to stroke in your presence."

Howe winced. "They'll sniff out the ruse from a mile off."

"Makes no difference to me. I merely wish to arrive in style."

***

Nathaniel thought arriving in style was overrated, as he lugged the heavy coffin to the gates where he was promptly halted by the sentries.

"What's in the coffin, Fereldan?"

"Felix Amell."

The guardsmens' eyes went wide as Nathaniel rolled his own. The name held weight, terror even, behind it. He was used to these reactions. There was a huge ruckus from within the castle as the Elder Wardens and the First herself came out to see the dread Hero of Ferelden's corpse. Nathaniel slapped a hand to his brow.

"Why did you all assemble here at once. Announcing your presence like this... What if this were a trap?"

"Quite a trap, one man and a corpse." The First Warden, a woman approaching her fifties, replied. "You are hopelessly outnumbered here, Fereldan. It would be foolish to pull a fast one now."

Nathaniel merely kept a hand pressed to his brow as the coffin burst open and Felix Amell walked out, dark, shoulder length hair waving with wild abandon in the wind. Laughing, of course.

"Hah! You owe me a drink, Howe."

The Warden closest to him thrust out with a spear, which was promptly wrenched out of his arm in a blur of motion and used to stab his advancing companion through the throat as he himself fell back screaming, his arm twisted at an odd angle. Nathaniel had already strung his bow and loosed an arrow at the charging wardens before it was reduced to splinters mid flight by a wave of invisible force. Felix turned a glare on him.

"Stay out of this. I wish to enjoy it all I can."

He kicked a warrior that had come too close and he went reeling into his comrades at the back, where he exploded in a shower of blood and gore, taking most of them with him to the afterlife. Walking Bomb. Then the earth shifted below his feet as the First Warden, a mage herself, muttered an incantation.

A chunk of earth tore itself from the ground and hit Felix's shoulder. He was hurled back into a wall, ruining it, the dust and debris obscuring their vision.

"Be done with this, monster!" She cried.

Laughter emanated from the cloud of dust. "It is far too early to call it done. You dance well, First Warden..." Felix emerged as the debris around him shifted, a rich blue aura took the shape of a spectral humanoid construct around him. "But your step falls far too shallow."

The construct manifested a blade of arcane energy in it's hand and swung it in the direction of the fort, deliberately avoiding the older woman as her comrades were torn to shreds and the walls collapsed inward, reduced to rubble by the resulting shockwave. She stood their, stunned. Howe couldn't blame her. Certain as he was of his not being in any danger, something about being in the presence of overwhelming power tickled a primitive part of his brain that told him the sane thing to do would be flee. Yet he remained.

Felix smirked, satisfied. "Surely you have a move or two left inside you? Make this dance entertaining for me at least, First Warden."

***

The Hero of Ferelden yawned as he stood among the mountain of corpses he had erected. "That wasn't interesting at all."

Howe shook his head. "We're not here to sate your bloodlust, Commander. May we please move along with our real objective?"

Felix turned as the sound of hooves reached them from afar. Someone else had commisioned a ride to the Fort. Reinforcements perhaps. He had come to Weisshaup to take something invalueable to him, but there was no reason he couldn't spare a bit of time for some entertainment to go along, despite his uptight former subordinate's protestations. He awaited the carriage, hands folded in front of his chest.


End file.
